What’s true


Patchwork of reused materials for community garden, International District, Seattle

Sometimes, people will forgive what’s true. Even if it’s not good, not right, it’s true.

That’s what comes in to play when you hear music that’s real, it sings of its own accord. It hovers above the Plane of Attachment, where the artist is more invested in outcomes and reactions than the art itself.

Now enter the sad, beatnik guy who’s broken down and can’t get laid for the life of him; he’s in recovery and smokes and drinks free refills at the coffee shop, but belts it out at the open stage night, and gets shooed off five minutes later for taking up his time allotment.

I shooed him off, I was the emcee. My friend looked at me like, How could you, it’s from the heart…and I said, sometimes that’s not enough.

That was true, I meant it — but it shouldn’t have been said. And that’s the funny thing about what’s true. How you choose to use it says a lot about you, too.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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